


My Beloved

by Enchanting_Codswallop



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark, Demon Dean, First Time, M/M, Psychological Drama, Religious Guilt, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, salvation through love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 15:29:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8019340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchanting_Codswallop/pseuds/Enchanting_Codswallop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Father Castiel Novak didn't know what it was about the strange man that always sat in the pews after his sermons, but whatever it was, it made him very nervous. </p><p>He didn't know that love could take such a sinful form, and that it would test the limits of his spirituality, sexuality, and patience. </p><p>He didn't know that limits could be  broken.</p><p>He didn't know that the salvation he needed wasn't the salvation he wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Beloved

**Author's Note:**

> This story is about two men who take a journey together they never even knew they'd started until it was already over.
> 
> I do not own _Supernatural_ or the associated characters.
> 
> Please enjoy this tale.

_Because hate is legislated, written into the primer and the testament, shot into our blood and brain like vaccine or vitamins. Because our day is of time, of hours—and the clock-hand turns, closes the circle upon us: and black timeless night sucks us in like quicksand, receives us totally—without a rain-check or a parachute, a key to heaven or the last long look._

_I need love more than ever now...I need your love—I need love more than hope or money...wisdom or drink. Because love has your face and body, and your hands are tender and your mouth is sweet—and God has made no other eyes like yours._

From Walter Benton's, _This Is My Beloved_ —the book that inspired this piece. 

~*~

With a loud gasp, the priest suddenly sat upright in bed, looking around his room with wide blue eyes. His breaths came quickly and he found himself struggling to calm down, frantically trying to recall the dream that had brought him from such a deep sleep. After many seconds of trying, the prying fingers of his mind could not bring forth even a thread of the dream, and he gave up with a relieved sigh. Spotting the cross on his door he smiled, placing a hand on his heart and closing his eyes. Perhaps it was his Lord's doing that such a terrible dream remained far from his waking consciousness. 

Father Castiel Novak glanced out of his window, noting that it was still dark outside, and the city around the church still lay dark and lethargic. Well. There was no getting back to sleep now. Standing, the priest stretched and went about his daily ritual of washing his face and dressing in a freshly ironed black suit. Once he'd adjusted his white clerical collar, he looked around his barren room and started for the door—only to find himself pausing in his step. A cold, foreign aura settled over him, and he was stricken with the strangest feeling that he was being watched. Glancing behind himself, he blinked, eyebrows knitted in unease. 

No one there.

The air felt heavy and thick, in a way that dripped with foreboding. Small hairs had began prickling at the back of his neck and he could have sworn he heard something behind him. Quickly, he rushed out of his bedroom and shut the door, staring at it with furrowed brows. Forming the cross over his chest, he hurried down the hall to find breakfast, muttering a prayer under his breath. 

This wasn’t the first time he’d had the feeling of being watched in his room, and he guessed it wouldn’t be his last. He did not know what that aura was, or the strange feeling that accompanied it, only that it felt wrong. He’d cleansed the room and prayed, but the feeling did not leave. There was definitely something about it that left him nervous and glancing over his shoulder, only to find nothing, nothing at all...Surely he just needed to get out more. At least, that’s what he’d been telling himself since it started a few months ago. With a huff and a smile at the knowledge his Lord would protect him, he found himself eating breakfast and forgetting about it completely.

“Father Novak! Good morning!” A nun greeted, coming up to Castiel and smiling at him. He met her sweet face with a happy smile of his own.

“Good morning, Sister. Did you sleep well?” he asked, watching her as he nibbled on his toast. 

She laughed, sitting across from her priest and nodding. “Oh yes, very. We girls got a bit warm last night though. Not that I’m complaining.” She shrugged and reached out, pouring herself some orange juice and making pleasant conversation. The priest was staring off into space, deep in thought as she talked. Though Castiel enjoyed her company, something she said struck him as odd. For weeks his room had been freezing, and he’d find himself waking up in violent shivers only to see his breath in the lamp light. He’d passed it off as the part of the church he stayed in...and would continue to do so even if there was something in the back of his mind telling him to be weary. Brushing it off, he again soon ignored it and went about his business. He chatted with the nuns, sat in the confessional and listened to church patrons, held a small sermon, had lunch, prayed, ate dinner—the usual. It was the simple monotony and redundancy of his life that kept him happy and sated. Unlike most, he didn’t care for surprises and enjoyed knowing exactly what was going to happen at all times. 

Just as the sun set that day, he found himself at an arched window, staring through glass at the city horizon before him. It was beautiful, he thought, a small smile on his pert lips. For church members, this was a quiet time of day, when few patrons came to visit. He enjoyed his peace. 

It was only then that he noticed something, something very strange in the reflection of the glass he gazed at.

He saw the hazy reflection of his own face, but directly behind it there was another. It was dark, seemingly featureless, and seemed masculine. Castiel whipped his head around, coming face to face with air.

Turning back to the glass, he saw nothing, only himself.

Biting his lip, he took a deep breath and shook his head. Everything would be alright. Certainly, if it was something bad, he would know…Right?

Calming himself, he hurriedly grabbed dinner and ran up the stairs, closing his door with a sigh. Was he perhaps going crazy? He thought not, but anything was possible. After staring around the room, making sure nothing was going to come out and bite him, he calmed down. This was his Lord’s house. Why should he be so worried? He shouldn’t.  
Castiel smiled, reassured by his own thoughts, and stripped himself of his clothes. He retreated to his bathroom, sitting on the side of his old clawed tub and running himself a bath. There were few things the priest indulged in, and taking hot baths before bed was his guilty little pleasure. 

Sinking into the tub, he smiled, sighing and humming with relief. Outside, he heard cars passing by the church, people yelling, sirens wailing, and all was right. Within the church, he heard someone playing the piano. It was calming, and he found himself with his eyes closed, long eyelashes brushing his cheeks. He’d been smiling until he felt goose-bumps breakout over his arms. The hair on his skin rose and he broke out into a chill. 

This time, however, a strange smell accompanied the feeling he was growing all too familiar with. It almost smelled like eggs. Though the smell was gone as soon as it had come, yet the feeling remained.

It was only then that he felt a hot breath against his ear.

He yelped, thrashing around in his tub and splashing water all over. He’d snatched a bar of soap, as if it were some holy weapon, and turned to face the intruder. 

There was no one there. 

-

“Father Novak, you look terrible. Are you alright? In fact, you haven’t seemed well for weeks now,” a young nun, Anna, told him. 

“I’m fine Sister, truly, I am. I’m just having trouble sleeping. I’m sure it will pass,” he said quietly, stifling the urge to yawn.

He stood with the young woman amongst the pews, smiling at her tiredly. They were the only two in the chapel, as it was late and the other clergy members had long since gone to bed. 

“Father, I worry for you. If this doesn’t clear up, perhaps we should call a doctor?”

“No, no, I promise. I will be fine. Why don’t you go get some rest, Anna? I’ll follow suit soon. I’ve just got to finish dusting the statues.”

She stared at him for a moment, and then decided to leave the conversation alone and bid him goodnight. He watched her go and then began to lightly continue dusting the statue of an angel near the door. Upon finishing his task, he was passing by the confessional booths when suddenly he heard a loud thump, followed by the groan of wood. The priest froze, staring around himself with furrowed eyebrows. What was that? The pews were empty, but then he noticed one of the confessional booths was closed.

Strange.

Carefully, he approached the booth, only to yelp upon hearing a voice speak from within.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned. Or some shit like that.”

His eyes widened and he froze. Someone was here for a confession. But…it was almost midnight, who had arrived here at this time? Why hadn’t he seen them? Patrons never came at this time. In fact, it was an unspoken rule that in this town, the church was closed after ten. 

“Ah. Uhm, alright, then,” he muttered, walking into the booth and closing the door. Looking at the paneling in front of him, he could only see a vague shape of the other side’s occupant. “What have you done, child?” he asked deeply, leaning forward a bit. If a patron needed him, he would be there for them, no matter the circumstances.

“I can’t stop thinking about this guy. He’s kind. Naïve. Everything I ain’t.” The voice said. It was gruff, deep, and confidant. Castiel guessed it was a voice many women would find attractive. That he himself found attractive.

“I--” Castiel began, but was cut off. 

“You see every time I see him, I get kinda hungry. I see his innocence, and light, his sweetness and all that shit…And you know what I wanna do to him?”

“My son…” Castiel muttered, already feeling his cheeks grow warm. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“I wanna kiss him, father. More than that. He’s got the sexiest little lips in the entire world. Plus, he’s just so full of innocence…I just wanna take it away.”

Castiel’s eyes widened and his face grew warm. He shifted in his booth, staring at the vague outline of his patron. Sexual confessions always made him uncomfortable, but he could handle them.

“As human beings, it is not so strange to have such urges, my son,” he said calmly, voice not betraying his subtle embarrassment. “When did this start?”

“Not too long ago,” the stranger replied.

“Are you two close? How long have you known him?”

Ignoring his questions, the man continued. “He’s different. There’s just something so...something...about him…It’s driving me nuts. I'm just wondering what I should do about it.”

Castiel blushed, blinking. “My son—having these thoughts is normal for young men. However, do not let lust cloud your judgement. Lust is dangerous, sinful. But do not fret. If you feel this way, perhaps you should tell him. If not, you should know never to force someone to do something. If you think such dubious thoughts, you must pray for forgiveness, and seek the bible whenever such thoughts strike you. Consent is always the answer.” Castiel's particular church did not frown upon man and man relations as they had become rather progressive in that way. It still made Castiel a tad uncomfortable, considering his own discomfort with his sexuality, but he ignored it on the best of days.

"I don't want forgiveness for anything to be honest with you." The man paused, sounding like he was shifting in the booth. "You wanna know why I came here today?”

“Why?”

“Because. I like hearing you talk. I like your voice. Your sermons never last long enough. I watch them sometimes.”

That surprised Castiel. “Oh?” He wondered if perhaps he sounded like the man this patron liked. The thought made him embarrassed, but perhaps this could be therapeutic somehow for him. Castiel didn't know who's voice he was hearing, and was positive they'd never met before. The voice sounded familiar, though. Still, he couldn't put a face to the voice.

“Yep. Hey, I’ve gotta go. But I’ll be sure to stop by again tomorrow.”

The priest had been about to say more, only to hear the other door open. When he stepped out he found the patron gone and the booth empty. He blinked. What an interesting session. Usually it was the older men that came by, saying how they had such urges and felt ashamed. But never had anyone told him they didn’t want to be forgiven. Perhaps if he was coming back tomorrow, he could convince him to seek further guidance. Maybe he could help this man find a gentle solution to his problem. Maybe he could if he was rejected.

Stopping in the hall, he had to pray for a moment in an attempt to cast away his own sinful thoughts. Castiel himself was guilty of having passing thoughts of men. Thoughts of the flesh, men’s flesh in particular, had always plagued him. Luckily, he’d fought such urges for so long they were easy to ignore. He would not think of them, nor the stranger, any longer.

For now, it was time for bed. 

-

_Someone was there under the covers with him, hovering just a few inches above his body. Hungry, wet kisses were being laid upon his skin. He felt a hand sneak up his shirt, pulling it up above his nipples, and a breath ghost hotly over his stomach. He moaned softly as a hand rubbed over his chest, and teeth bit his ear._

_“Moan for me, my little angel,” he heard a voice say. Somehow he couldn’t make out the voice clearly, but it sounded familiar. But that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for those lips and hands._

_He moaned for his lover, arching his back into the man’s mouth. He felt kisses trail down his belly until that mouth was at his groin. Through the fabric of his pants, he felt lips moving over his shaft._

_“Ah! Uhn…”_

_“That’s right, baby…Let me hear it. What do you want?” the voice was salacious, positively dripping with sinful promise._

_“I…” he started, his words leaving him as those lips mouthed his groin._

_“What? I’m sorry, I didn’t get that,” the voice groaned, biting his clothed member. Hands trailed up his legs until he felt fingers dip into the hem of his pants. Slowly, they were pulled down until he felt his dick spring free of its confines, throbbing in the warmed air._

_“I want…Ah!” His voice stopped in his throat as a pair of lips brushed against the head of his member. Tingles of pleasure shot up his spine and hot breath teased his hardened flesh. “Oh! Mhn…”_

_“Oh, baby, I got you…I’ll give you what you want…You’ve just got to tell me…” the voice taunted. His lover growled as his tongue flicked at the head of his member, causing him to gasp._

_“You! You, please,” he breathed, eyes shut tight. Castiel’s hands went to grab at his own hair, gasping again as the tip of his cock disappeared into his lover’s mouth. He felt a tongue swirl along the top, then lick the sensitive skin just below the swell of the head. His hips twitched, and a high-pitched noise left his lips._

_The mouth left his member with a slick, wet sound followed by a chuckle. “Oh angel, you’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”_

-

Castiel awoke with a groan, eyes opening just enough to see it was still dark within his room. He found himself to be heavily breathing and then noticed the temperature—it was hot. He sat up, only to gasp and then groan, looking down at his legs. His covers were strewn about and his sheets were damp from sweat.

Then he felt it.

A hot, thick substance was rolling down his belly and chest. He froze, staring down at the mess on himself and scrambled out of bed. No…no…no! He thought he’d rid himself of these blasphemous dreams. These dreams would come to him occasionally, and every time he knew that he begged for it in his mind. Inside his head, in his dreams, pure lust wasn't sinful, it wasn't scary. It was wonderful, exciting even. It was safe there. His dreams had been apparent before he'd moved to this building, but recently, his dreams had taken a vivid turn.

With a red cheeks, he scurried to the bathroom, looking in the mirror and freezing. His hair was tousled, messy and completely astray. His lips were dry from his own heated breath. Running to the tub, he took a hasty, hot bath in an attempt to wash away the evidence. For the entirety of that morning, he was on his knees praying in front of the cross in his room. 

In his youth, when homosexuals were particularly ostracized and hated, he'd taken a public vow of celibacy and abstinence. He'd grown up with strict parents and a cruel father. Castiel did not dwell on his past, and was a bright, optimistic, person, even if he seemed rather stoic. But he was still constantly fighting an inner battle with himself. His upbringing mixed with the ridicule he'd endured when he was younger turned him into a sexually starved and sexually apprehensive man. He couldn't find it in his heart to masturbate because he'd always picture another man. He knew his Lord would not condemn him for loving men...but it was his own mind that had a hard time letting him think positive thoughts about being sexual with another man. Still, he'd fought long and hard for this church to become one that loved everyone, even if he hated himself. The youths around the town liked to call him an activist, he just liked to think he was doing the right thing. 

Blinking, as he looked up at the shiny feet of the little bronze Jesus on the cross, he took a deep breath. 

He couldn’t remember exactly what had happened in his dream, only that it was as sinful as a dream could get. He knew he was irrational. Humans have urges, and sex is natural...And he'd had a dream, it wasn't like he'd consciously masturbated. His abstinence vow didn't even specifically say masturbation was forbidden! Yet still, the apprehension and past bullying made him feel dirty.

He was so deep in prayer, he’d almost forgotten he had a sermon to perform. Eyes widening, he rushed downstairs only to find the familiar, smiling faces of his patrons. He loved them, so very much. He would do his absolute best not to disappoint them. 

Putting on a brave face, he began his sermon for that day, coming up with what he wanted on the spot. Oddly enough, his self-persecution made him want to make his patrons of all ages feel proud and good. Perhaps, today, he could make someone very happy. 

"Good morning. I'm so glad to see you all here today." He smiled genuinely at everyone, happy to see a full house. "I want to start this morning off with a reminder to persevere. This reminder comes from 2 Corinthians 12, line 10. 'That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong...'"

Castiel gave a lengthy sermon about why hardships were so important for people to grow as individuals. His sermon served almost more as a personal pep-talk. Even still, he felt better. After, he greeted and talked to pleased patrons for over an hour as was customary. When everyone was gone, and most of the complimentary doughnuts and orange juice too, he turned his back on the pews and looked out at the backs of the last family exiting the church's main doors. Giving a soft smile, he took a deep breath again and then noticed there was one doughnut left. Looking around suspiciously, he plucked the lonely thing from the box and took a bite. 

Smiling to himself at the sweetness, he turned around. He had just began to chew when he noticed there was someone still sitting in the pews.

He blinked, walking toward them down the center aisle. His shoes clicked dully against the carpeted stone and he tilted his head a bit. He was sure mostly everyone had gone. How rude and unobservant he was!

"Excuse me?" He said softly, gruffly thanks to him swallowing his pastry too quickly without chewing it properly. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. Do you need a moment alone?"

The patron made a noise, like a scoff or laugh, and simply shook his head. "Nah. Who comes to church to be alone, am I right?"

Father Novak blinked, finding the other's humorous tone most curious. However, his guilt was replaced by shock. This was the voice that had spoken to him last night! The one from the confessional. 

Suddenly an intense curiosity clouded his usually reasonable judgement. Rushing over like a child, he came around to face the mystery man. His eyes widened when he realized, even though he knew he'd never seen this person before, he looked familiar somehow. What he couldn't stop realizing was that this man had the most perfect face he'd ever seen. His eyes were green, he had faint freckles, gentle laugh lines around his eyes, sandy short hair, and the most artistic lips he can ever recall seeing. This man was handsome, but even that world didn't do him justice. The sudden intensity of seeing such an attractive man caught him off guard and he nearly choked on his own spit.

The man was just watching him with a smirk that had no business in a church. His arms were slung over the backs of the pew bench, and his legs were out and as spread as far as they could get in the small confines of the benches. He was wearing jeans, books, and some sort of plaid shirt over a few other thinner shirts. 

Castiel's eyes flicked down to the man's lips when said man licked them. His mind was so slow, he couldn't remember exactly what they'd been saying before. This man suddenly made him very uncomfortable, but only because he felt so attracted to him. He was his type, in every way. Was this the Lord's way of giving him some sort of cruel test?

Out of nowhere, the man laughed, happy eyes scrunching up. "C'mon, Father, I didn't scare you did I?" There was something strange about the way he said those words, however, Castiel didn't notice immediately. 

"Oh, no...I just, don't recall seeing you around here before. I know everyone that comes here...at least I know their faces. I'm so glad you've decided to choose our church. It's nice to meet you, I'm father Novak." The way the man was watching him made him nervous, and he suddenly wished he had something to hold onto. He also wished it was not the other man's hand, which he now realized he had to shake. 

The patron smirked mischievously and clapped his warm hand to the priest's, spooking him a bit, and gave it a hardy shake. 

"I'm Dean."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I read and respond to every comment. Tell me your thoughts, suggestions, and concerns about this story!


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